


Rubber Bands + Daddy Issues

by Fiddlerinthewoods



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: (duh), 4 + 1, Aliens, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Literally all Supergirl characters except for one, Newsies References, Not Fluff, Past Character Death, Secrets, Space Dad Hank Henshaw | J'onn J'onzz, The DEO | Department of Extra-Normal Operations, Winn has good friends, Winslow Schott Sr. is not a good dad, both ish, i think, idk - Freeform, no regrets, not angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16252427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiddlerinthewoods/pseuds/Fiddlerinthewoods
Summary: Winn Schott doesn't have many secrets in his life. But the secrets he does have, he wants to keep secret.The fact that the Toyman is his father is a secret he wants to forget.The fact why he wears a rubber band is one that no one needs to know about.Or so he hopes.AKA four times Winn's friends notice something weird about him, and one time Winn speaks the full truth.





	Rubber Bands + Daddy Issues

**Author's Note:**

> I do now own Supergirl or Newsies  
> TW: Guns, and mentions of death

  1. Kara



Kara never questioned why Winn had a rubber band across his wrist. it was just something that was always there. He never took it off, never seemed to do anything with it, and so she didn’t ask. It could have been a fashion trend for all she knew.

The one time she saw him acknowledge its presence was when they were still working at CatCo worldwide media. 

Kara was still new to CatCo. There was no Supergirl; Kara was just normal new-girl Kara. She had walked in with Cat’s coffee and was waiting until her boss arrived. She stopped by her friend Winn’s desk.

Winn seemed to be busy on the computer. He kept typing on the keyboard while softly humming to himself. Kara tilted her head, she’s never heard that song before. It seemed to be fast paced, with lots of rifts in it.

Before she could ask what he was humming, Winn abruptly stopped and grabbed his rubber band.

He flicked himself with the rubber band, his wrist slightly stinging from the impact.

Then he merely carried on his programming, sighing slightly.

“Hey, Winn,” Kara greeted.

He looked up to see her, “Hey, Kara.”

“So…” Kara awkwardly started, “What’re you humming?”

He blinked, embarrassment almost flooding to his face, “Uh, nothing. Just a mindless tune is all.”

“Cool.”

Kara would have stayed to chat with Winn, but Cat arrived. Kara rushed off to meet her boss with her coffee.

If she did stay, she would have noticed that Winn had a nostalgic look in his eye before flicking his rubber band again and continuing to work.

* * *

 

  1. James



It was so interesting to hear Winn talk about what he was passionate about. James found that this was something admirable about Winn. When he was passionate about anything, he wanted to let everyone know about it. He shared his ideas, his theories, and his knowledge about many sci related subjects.

( _Star Wars_ being one commonly brought up.)

But James never took Winn as a historian. Though, James couldn’t count Winn as a historian for he only really knew information about the late 19th century, especially American history.

Also getting Winn riled up enough to rant about something was one way to send time.

Such as when they had evening gathers at Kara’s apartment.

The rain outside kept anyone from wanting to go out. It poured and poured. So Kara, Alex, Winn, and James decided to celebrate another weekly victory by having pizza night at the Kara’s.

It was only the three of them (Alex, Winn, and James) who sat in the living room eating. Kara had to take a quick shower to watch the mud from the earlier fight out of her hair. So to pass the time, James and Alex played ‘How riled up can we get Winn?’

“So you’re telling me that after _everything_ they did,” Alex summarised, “The paperboys still didn’t win the strike?”

Winn nodded his head, “Yeah. It was terrible. The amount was changed to sixty cents per hundred papers, and that was a lot of money in 1899.”

“That’s terrible. And no one helped the paperboys?” James wondered.

“Who would?” Winn joked, “The leader was criminal, stole food and clothing, the newsies were just teenagers. No one cared. At least, no one in a position of _power_ cared.”

“What was the strike even going to _do?”_ James mused, “What would it have accomplished.”

Winn opened his mouth before closing it and flicking his wrist with his rubber band. He cleared his throat, “It’s was going to give the newsies freedom. Pulitzer charged the papers more and it wasn’t fair. This strike was going to make it fairer. There was going to be more opportunities for them. They needs to show Pulitzer that he can’t charge extra just to get rich.”

“But that’s what he did.” Alex mentioned.

 “Don’t remind me,” Winn glared at nothing in particular, “It makes my blood boil. They was just teenagers tryin to make a livin! Nothin wrong with that.”

James hide a smile. It amused him how a thin New York City accent would come into Winn’s words, even thought he’s never been to New York. This happened when he got _very_ passionate, or _very_ drunk.

“…Even when Spot Conlon, the head of the Brooklyn strike, brought his boys to the protest, nothin changed.”  Winn sighed in defeat, “And to think, if only Jack Kelly accepted the offer from Pulitzer to get the money and go to… Santa Fe, then the newsies wouldn’t have been arrested. And Jack Kelly wouldn’t have been killed.”

“Who killed him?” Alex furrowed her brow.

Winn’s eyes lit like fire, “Warden Snyder. He didn’t like how the newsies were winning, so he killed Jack Kelly. The leader. Sure, the newsies tried to finish the strike but without their leader, the face of the strike… everything died down and the boys got arrested and placed in The Refuge. Snyder was the warden of The Refuge and wanted Jack Kelly and the newsies off the streets.”

The light in his eyes died, “He killed Jack Kelly and claimed it as self-defence. I mean, who would defend a deceased criminal who stole bread and clothing to give to the other boys at The Refuge?”

Kara stood in the doorway, towel-drying her hair. “Wow, Winn, never knew you knew so much about the Paperboy Strike.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, well…” He let his sentence die down, there was obviously something he wanted to say, but didn’t. He looked up, now cheerful, and looked at the pizza. “Shall we have some pizza?”

Kara laughed and put the towel in the laundry, “Never though we’d start.”

The four people grabbed at their food, chatting and having a good time. By the end of the night, they forgot about Winn’s emotional rant about the Newsboys Strike of 1899.

* * *

 

  1. Alex



It was the second of August, and Alex knew just where to find the missing DEO agent.

She had been warned (by Kara) of Winn’s tendency to get drunk on this day and hide in the bar all night. She was also told of his favourite bar to get drunk in. It was a small bar, barely anyone inside would speak to people drinking their sorrows away. Even the bartender didn’t care, they only made sure the people didn’t die on their counter, and that they didn’t drive home.

It was the perfect place to get drunk in.

After not finding him at his normal bar, Alex looked around other bars close to how Winn’s favourite bar was.

She opened the door to the fifth bar and walked inside. There was a strong smell of beer in the air. Some quiet music played in the background, the people drinking in silence. This place didn’t sell much wine, only beers. And the wines they did sell was so _extremely_ pricier than the beers that no one bothered.

Alex surveyed the area, locating Winn in the corner of the bar. She made her way over to him, passing a man trying to drown himself in pints of beers.

“Winn,” she said, standing beside him. Beer glasses laid scattered by him. “Wake up.”

He didn’t move.

“Winn,” she tried again, shaking his arm.

He still didn’t move.

She smacked the table by his face, “Wake up!”

He jumped up in his seat, fully awake.

“Imup, Imup.” He turned and looked at Alex. “Oh, hey, Alex…”

“You’ve been gone all day,” she started, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

He looked at the calendar hung on the opposite wall, he then sighed and looked down. “Nothin.”

“Then why are you in a bar, alone, at ten in the evening?” She sat on the stool beside him, “And don’t say ‘long story’, we’re both off the clock. I have time.”

He glanced at her before sighing and rubbing his eye. “Taday’s the second of August. Dere’s somethin bad bout dis day in me’s memories. I’s like to tell yous, but I’s can’t.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at the bad New York accent.

“What can’t you tell me?” Alex wondered, “What’s so bad about the memory?”

He sighed and finished the half-filled beer glass he had, “Do yous know what death feels like, Alex? De last breath yous take before yer heart stops?”

She furrowed her brow at the question, “No.”

“Lucky.” He played with his glass, “It’s de feelin of regret at everythin yous couldn’t do.”

He tried to call over to bartender, but Alex stopped him.

“You’re done,” she said.

“But—”

“Winn. You’re done.” She ordered, “Let’s get you home.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I’ma not go home. I’s wants tuh stay fer a while.”

“Winn…” Alex grabbed his arm, there was little resistance. “You’re drunk. You need to go home before you get even more drunk and have a massive hangover. You still have work in the morning.”

Alex helped him off the stool, the bartender raised an eyebrow. “I’ll make sure he gets home safe.” She assured. The bartender nodded in approval.

“No…!” Winn tried to complain, “I’s doan wanna go… Let me drown in me’s sorrows… Yous has a strong grip, wow…”

She shook her head as she led him to her car. She opened the back doors and helped place him inside the back. He laid against the seat, leaning against the passenger side’s door.

“Where yous takin me?” he wondered. He gasped in realisation, “I’s doan wanna go back to The Refuge! Doan take me back!”

She shook her head and sighed, “I’m not taking you to a refuge. Just to your house.”

“Mmm…dat’s good.” His eyes lazily stared at her, “I’s didn’t steal those clothin or those foods… I doan deserve to go back…”

Alex raised an eyebrow before closing the door and climbing into the front seat. She started her car and drove them out of the parking lot.

As she was driving, Winn started to off-key sing. She sighed and focused on the road.

“… _dAY. Soon yer friends are more like faMIily; and they’s beggin yous to stAY!  Ain’t that neat? Living sweet in Santa FeeeeeeEEEEE….”_

Alex’s phone started to ring from where she placed it on the dash.

“Quiet down,” she hissed to Winn. His singing died down with an unhappy grumble. She answered the call and put it on speaker. “Hello? Alex Danvers speaking.”

It was Kara. “Alex! Have you seen Winn? James and I weren’t able to find him.”

“Actually…” she started.

“Is dat Kara?” Winn asked, trying to sit up. “Hello, Kara!”

“Winn!” she exclaimed, “You weren’t at your normal bar.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I’s was tryin out a new place.”

“How is he, Alex?” James wondered, Alex must have been on speaker-phone.

“Drunk,” She responded. “Brooklyn accent—”

“New York!” he corrected from the back.

“—Singing songs in rhyme again,” Alex explained. “This time about a place called Santa Fe.”

_“Santa FeeeeEEEEE!”_ He started up again. This time he choked out the word before breaking down into sobs. “Oh, Crutchie, Specs, Finch, JoJo, Davy, Les…. I’m sorry I left yous… Wonderin how’s yous doin, left alone in New York…”

“He’s delusional,” Alex informed, “He’s thinks he’s from New York.”

Kara sighed, “Aw, Winn…” she cleared her throat. “Where are you now?”

“Half-way to his apartment,” Alex explained. “Don’t worry, he’s fine.”

 “Okay. Make sure he doesn’t so anything _too_ stupid.” Kara stated.

“Alright.”

“Bye, Kara!” Winn called. “Bye, James!”

“Bye, Winn.” The two said in unison.

“Bye.” Alex hung up the phone and the two continued the ride in silence.

Then Winn started to talk again, “Hey, Alex. Alex, Alex, Alex, Alex, Alex!”

“What!” she demanded, irritated from his babbling.

“Does yous know why I wear dis rubber band?”

She glanced at him from the review mirror, he was holding up his left hand. He began to pluck his rubber band with his fingers. “I wasn’t aware you wore one.”

“Well, I’s do.” He stared at it before plucking it once more. “Where I’s grew up, we’s had a different way of lettin our feelins out, yous know? Instead of talkin it out, we’s sing. I doan know where’s the music come from, but’s it’s always there when we’s sing.”

“Like a musical?”

He nodded, “Yup! Like’s a musical…”

Alex sighed, “Winn, you grew up in Newark, New Jersey. Not New York.”

“That’s what’s yous think…” He yawned before his eyes slid close. “Mmm gonna takes a nap…”

“Good idea,” Alex agreed, “We’re almost at your home anyway. Get some sleep.”

The soft snoring from the backseat, about one minute later, told Alex that Winn took her advice. She sighed and continued to drive through National City’s streets.

_Who would have thought that Winn’s a delusional drunk?_

* * *

 

  1. Henshaw



Before Henshaw could offer Winn a position at the DEO, he had to make sure that Winn had a cleared background. And this was something he wanted to do by himself. There didn’t need to be anyone else with him while he ran a full background check.

This wasn’t suspicious. Henshaw was known to specially pick each of the agents. He wanted to make sure that everyone who worked for him passed his background check.

Normally, the control room was filled with agents going among their way. Chatter in the background, typing, and movement all around. But this late at night, when Henshaw was doing a background check, no one was inside.

He ordered them out for three hours.

It won’t take him three hours to complete this background check, most background checks only take an hour at most, but he wanted to have enough time to go through the background a few times. He was very cautious.

He also didn’t want to hire someone who knew the real Hank Henshaw, or who would kill him once they found out who he really is.

As Henshaw delved deep into the history of Winslow Schott Jr., he discovered a few key facts:

1) His father is Winslow Schott Sr. aka The Toyman (Henshaw already knew this fact, so it wasn’t anything special.)

and

2) Winn already had a file in the DEO, only accessible by Director Hank Henshaw (this was a file that this current Hank Henshaw did _not_ create.)

Henshaw opened the file that Winn already had and read over the information. It seemed to just be a normal personnel file:

SCHOTT, WINSLOW, JR.

DOB: XX/XX/87

POB: ---,---, United States of America

SPECIES: Human

STATUS: Deceased

MOTHER: McGowen, Mary

FATHER: Schott, Winslow, Sr.

SIBLINGS: N/A

Henshaw stared at the old file of Winn, he mused to himself. “Now, why would a programmer at CatCo Worldwide Media have a deceased file already created in the DEO…?”

He started to dig deeper into any information on Winn he could find in the DEO’s database.

Within minutes, the only information he could gather on Winn was what was on the file in front of him.

Henshaw huffed in agitation and leaned back in his chair. He tried to find any information he could in the original Hank Henshaw’s personal notes. After an hour of digging, he managed to find a small note from the original Hank Henshaw. It was uploaded from a paper copy written in the late 20th century/early 21st century.

DIRECTOR’S NOTE

XX/XX/99

AS OF THE EVE OF XX/XX/99, WE HAVE FACTUAL PROOF OF THE MULTI-UNIVERSE.

AROUND 2230, A STREAK OF YELLOW WAS SEEN THROUGHOUT NATIONAL CITY. I SENT MY AGENTS TO THE STREAK’S LAST KNOWN WHEREABOUT, IT WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF A DESERT. ONCE THE TEAM ARRIVED, AROUND 2300, THE ONLY PROOF OF THE STREAK WAS A HUMAN BOY.

THE BOY CALLED HIMSELF ‘JACK KELLY’. HE WORE AN OUTFIT AKIN TO THE 1890S. HE LOOKED TO BE AROUND THE AGE OF A TEENAGER/YOUNG ADULT.

WE TOOK ‘JACK KELLY’ BACK TO THE DEO TO INTERROGATE HIM. WE MANAGED TO FIND OUT THAT HE WAS FROM 1899, JUST AFTER THE NEWSBOYS STRIKE OF 1899. THERE IS A RECORDING OF THE INTERROGATION.

Henshaw found the recording and played it. He recognised the voice of Hank Henshaw.

_“What did you say your name was?”_

_“Jack Kelly, sir. What bout it?”_

Henshaw didn’t recognise that voice, it seemed to have a thick New York accent.

_“What’s your species?”_

The voice scoffed, _“Human. Why yous askin?”_

Hank ignored ‘Jack Kelly’, _“And where are you from, Mr. Kelly?”_

_“Just Jack’s fine.”_ Jack paused, _”And I told yous, I’s from New York.”_

_“What were you last doing, in New York?”_

_“I’s was bout to win the strike. Then damned Warden Snyder went an’ killed me! Put a bullet through me’s eyes. I swear I’s was dead. I’s ain’t lyin. But’s then, I’s was back in dat conference room. Big ol’ blurry yellow creature went and grabbed me arm. Dragged me along and threw me in dis desert.”_

_“You died, then you came back?”_

_“Doan know,”_ Jack sighed. _“Why’s I’s here? Where are we’s?”_

_“Do you know who this yellow creature is?”_

_“Nope.”_ Jack popped the ‘p’, _“All I’s knows is dat I’m no longer dead.”_

_“Mr. Kelly, what strike are you referring too?”_

Jack sighed, _“Yous too? Damn, no one’s knows bout ours strike, huh? I’ma talkin about the strike! Yous know, the strike in New York?”_

_“I do not know what strike you’re talking about. Who is the strike against?”_

_“That damned Pulitzer. Charged newspapers ten cents more fer every hundred papers. Completely unfair to us, newsies, I’s tells you. That’s why I’s created the strike.”_

Hank paused, _“Mr. Kelly, can you tell me what year it is?”_

Jack scoffed, _“Yeah. What of it?”_

_“Mr. Kelly, just answer the question.”_

_“1899.”_

Hank paused, _“Are you sure about that?”_

_“Yeah,”_ Jack paused, _“Why’re yous askin?”_

_“Mr. Kelly—”_

_“Jack.”_

_“Jack.”_ Hank gritted out, _“The current year is not 1899.”_

_“Dat’s a lie.”_

_“I assure you, Mr. Kelly, I am not lying.”_ Hank said, _“The current year is 1999. It’s been a hundred years since 1899.”_

_“I’s knows that. I’s can do math. And yous must not be able to read, ain’t you? It’s not 1999, I’s checked the newspapers. It’s 1899.”_

Hank growled, _“Mr. Kelly. Do not argue with me. The year is 1999. Where and when were you born?”_

_“Manhattan, New York. 1882.”_

Hank nodded and write some down, _“Now, I want to know why you’re here, and I want to know now.”_

_“Listen,”_ Jack snapped, _“I’s knows nothin! I’s doan knows anythin bout anythin at all, so stop askin. Go bother someones else.”_

The recording ended before the original Hank Henshaw could speak again.

Henshaw went back to the note from earlier. After reading the note, from top to bottom, Henshaw leaned back into his chair again.

This was interesting.

‘Jack Kelly’ was someone from a different dimension, someone from a different time.

And now ‘Jack Kelly’ was supposed to be living a free life, no where near the DEO.

But, of course, not all things go as planned.

* * *

 

  1. Winn



Winn had been working at the DEO for some time before his secret got revealed.

Honestly, he was surprised that Henshaw didn’t mention anything about their original meeting. He thought that there would be a warning with the job, or even if he would be given the job because of his past.

Winn was just happy to be working at the DEO. There was a high chance that no one there would recognise him, it has been a long time since he’s been in the building. And he wasn’t anything like how he was _back then._ He spoke without an accent, he was a genius with computers (something no one expected for him to be), and he wasn’t like how he was _back then._

Yes, he occasionally got nostalgic whenever someone brought in a newspaper, he speaks with a New York accent when he’s passionate or when he’s drunk, and he has to fight the urge to sing and dance whenever something emotional or interesting happens.

But he has changed.

And he hopes it was for the better.

Of course, forgetting one’s past didn’t always make it escapable. There were times when secrets are revealed, and trusts are broken. Such as when someone, who would rather be forgotten, ends up kidnapping Winn and James and holding them at gunpoint.

Which is how Winn ended up tied to a chair, in a warehouse, with James beside him—unconscious—in front of video camera. His father, Winslow Schott Sr./The Toyman (a bomber who uses toys as the bombs), had a water bottle gun on the table beside him. The gun had three bullets, one for James, one of Winn, and one for himself.

“Now, smile, _son_.” The Toyman instructed, “You’re going on video.”

Winn, who was _not_ smiling, started. “How did you escape again?”

“Oh, killed a few guards here and there, left through the front gates.” The Toyman explained, “No one saw it coming. Though, that’s what I did _last time.”_

“What’s it this time, _dad_?” Winn wondered, not amused, “Blow up the mayor, kill us and then yourself, blow the whole of National City?”

“Hmm, I’m thinking more off… getting you to admit the secret you’ve had for years.” The Toyman explained.

Winn gulped, “What secret? That my dad is a _homicidal maniac?_ Cause, spoiler alert! People know.”

Winn’s father shook his head, “The secret of my _real_ son’s death, and how you took over his life!”

Winn paled. “Uh, what? I, I didn’t die! I’m right here! How could I die if I’m right here!”

The Toyman shook his head, “No, no, no. I heard about this from some guy in prison. Showed me your personal files. _FILES!_ As in multiple! I was _so_ unset, I didn’t know what to do. So I killed some guards and escaped. I was hoping to get you to explain what happened to my son. Of course, making Supergirl pay for defeating me before we got to work together. We’ll record this video then I’ll send it to your work, live of course.”

Winn gulped, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

The Toyman raised the gun and pointed it at James, “I think that he would argue.” He looked down at Winn, his eyes soft, “Once we finish here, we can leave _together._ We can start new. You aren’t my son, but you’re the closest thing to him.”

Winn shook his head, “No. I am not going to lie to you.”

“You already are.” The Toyman started the video, “I’d start talking if I were you.”

“Why are you doing this?” Winn demanded.

The Toyman fired the gun to the left of James, close enough to almost graze him. Winn yelped.

“I have two more shots,” The Toyman explained. “I’d get talking.”

Winn frantically nodded, “Alright! Alright!” He turned to look at the camera. He gulped, “Uh, many of you know me as Winn. That’s not my name. Winslow Schott _Jr._ is also not my name.

“My real name is…” he glanced at the Toyman, who still had the gun pointed at James. “Do I have—”

The Toyman fired at James’ right, awakening the man.

James stumbled in his chair, “What the? Winn!”

“James!” Winn turned to his friend, “Are you okay?”

James blinked, “Yeah, asides from a headache… Am I being held captive by your father?”

The Toyman waved his fingers at James, “Yes.” He turned to Winn, “Come on, son, we have a time limit here.”

“What does he want you to do?” James furrowed his brow.

Winn gulped, “He wants me to reveal a secret no one but Henshaw knows…then run off with him.”

James turned to the Toyman, he growled, “You’re _not_ taking Winn away.”

The Toyman hissed, “Oh, protective, are we?”

He raised the gun to James’ forehead.

“No, don’t!” Winn called as the Toyman began to pull the trigger.

Suddenly, and fortunately, Supergirl burst through the roof landing beside the Toyman, prying the gun from his hand. James let out a sigh of relief, as did Winn.

The doors of the warehouse burst open and the FBI ran through.

“Hands above your head, down on the ground!” Agent Chase barked at the Toyman. “Now!”

As the FBI dealt with the Toyman, Supergirl uncuffed Winn and James. Winn jumped up and hugged her, “Thank you.”

She hugged him back, “No problem. Did you _really_ think I would let your dad kidnap you again?”

“Well…” James started. Supergirl turned to him, “Never mind.”

Winn and Supergirl opened their hug to him, “Come on,” Winn coaxed, “You know you want too!”

James smiled and joined their hug.

“There you go!” Winn smiled.

He saw the Toyman glance at him once more before being escorted from the building. Winn gulped and tried to focus on what Supergirl was saying to them. He wasn’t able to listen. The overpowering thought through his head was:

_Dad knew of my secret._

* * *

 

Hours later, the gang met up in Kara’s apartment.

Kara and Alex had ordered some Chinese food for that dinner. James was lounging on the couch, drinking some of the beer that Winn brought, and Winn was anxiously waiting their last guest.

After everything cleared up with the FBI, Winn had a meeting with J’onn. The meeting was short, it consisted of “The next time your father breaks out of prison, you will go to the DEO immediately. Doesn’t matter where you are, get to the DEO. I don’t want you getting kidnapped for the third time.” And “I think you should tell them.”

“Tell them what?” Was Winn’s apprehensive response.

J’onn (in his Henshaw façade) had shot him the ‘you know what I mean’ look, and Winn gulped. “You know what I mean. Your name?”

“Ooooohhhh, so we _were_ thinking of the same secret.”

“Winn…”

“Why should I tell them?” Winn had wondered, “No one except three-ish people know. Or _need_ to know!”

“And one of those people is your father,” J’onn had reminded, “If he does something like this again, we need to be ready. This is a huge secret, Winn, and I can understand why you wouldn’t want to reveal it, but… Kara needs to know. Your friends need to know.”

Winn had scratched the back of his neck, “I know… it’s just, I don’t know how they’ll react. I lost friends before, I can’t do that again…”

“Winn,” J’onn had placed a hand on Winn’s shoulder, his Father Mode Activatedtm, “They’re your friends. They won’t treat you any differently because of your real name.”

Winn had sighed and slowly nodded, “Yeah. You’re right. BUT! There is chance they won’t believe me, so I want you to be my backup?”

J’onn had blinked, “Backup?”

Winn had nodded, “Yup! In case they think I’m crazy...?”

J’onn had lightly smiled and nodded, “Fair enough. When’s dinner?”

And now that led to Winn anxiously waiting for J’onn to arrive. Alex and Kara joined them in the living room, packages of Chinese food in their arms.

“So,” Kara started, picking up a beer and starting the toast. “There’s—"

A knocking on the door interrupted her. “Are we expecting guests?” Alex wondered.

“It’s just me,” J’onn called.

Kara got up and opened the door, “J’onn! What’re you doing here?”

“I—”

“I invited him…” Winn explained, they turned to him. He flushed red, avoiding eye contact, “Um, there is something I should tell you all… and I asked J’onn to be my backup.”

“Come in,” Kara opened the door for J’onn to enter.

The two headed towards the group. Winn stood up and walked over to J’onn. There, he stood beside him.

“You’ll be fine,” J’onn whispered to him, “Take your time.”

He slightly nodded and took a deep breathe in. He tried to calm his nerves,  “You know when my father kidnapped me and James? Earlier today? Why am I asking? Of, of course you know…

“Well, the reason why my father broke out was, was because… he found my personal files at the DEO. And yes, files, as in more than one.”

“But every agent gets _one_ file.” Alex mentioned.

Winn nodded, “Yes. Unless there was a previous file in the DEO’s database…”

“Don’t tell me you’re an alien as well.” James guessed.

Winn looked up, “Nope! 100% human!”

“Then why…?”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…” Winn tried to avoid the truth. This was hard. _Extremely_ hard. He was about to change their views about him in less then a voice. “My place of birth may have been Earth, but… not in 1987…”

“Okay?” Kara shrugged, “My date of birth is technically 1966.”

“…1882…”

The room went silent.

“1882.” Kara echoed. “That’s a long time ago…”

Winn nodded, “Don’t I know it.”

“Hold up,” Alex added, “If you’re from the 19th century then why’re you in the 21st?”

“Uh… you believe me?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Kara wondered.

“Because it’s a little far-fetched…” Winn explained.

“I’m from Krypton,” Kara reminded, “I’m Supergirl. How far-fetched can you get?”

“I’m not an alien yet I’m a time traveller from 119 years ago.”

“Winn first recalled seeing a blurry yellow figure,” J’onn added, “Apparently it dragged him here, or well, to 1999.”

“Never seen that creature since…” Winn added.

James thought, “And how old were you?”

“About seventeen,” Winn remembered, “It was 1899.”

“Like that strike you’re always talking about?” Alex remembered.

Winn flushed, “Uh, yeah… like the strike I’m always talking about…”

“Wait,” Kara mentioned, “Then what’s your relation to…?”

Winn sighed. “The Winn from this world died when he was seventeen, coincidentally—heart crushed. Um, when I arrived I needed a new identity. So the DEO gave me Winn’s identity and I have lived as him ever since.

“My ‘dad’,” he used quotation marks, “Isn’t actually my father, in this world. I never knew mine. Anyway, I had to adapt to this new life. And become Winn.”

“This world?” Alex repeated, “Though you said that you weren’t alien.”

“I’m not!”

“Winn, here, is much like your friend Barry,” J’onn explained, “He is also not from this universe.”

“Do you—”

“No,” Winn sadly finished, “I do not know what universe I am from. Which is strange, now that we have that universe-jumper thing, I should recreate it… yet I still haven’t found where I’m from…”

“What’s your universe like?” Kara wondered.

“Uh, think musicals.” Winn explained, “Which is why I wear this rubber band. In my universe we show, uh, (this seemed quite embarrassing) our emotions and what’s going on through songs… Every time I feel like singing I have to remind myself that it’s not normal here…”

“Wow.” James blinked. “And you’ve been doing that for _years?”_

Winn nodded, screwing up his face in embarrassment, “Yeah…”

“So, where are you, our designated 136-year-old, actually from?” Alex wondered.

“I was born and raised in Manhattan, New York.” Winn explained, “Haven’t actually _been_ there lately… but, yeah, New York.”

“If Winn’s not your real name,” Kara turned to him, “Then what is?”

Winn coughed, “Um… Jack Kelly. My name is Jack Kelly. Well, that’s what people called me. I’m actually Francis Sullivan, but _don’t_ call me that.”

“What do you want us to call you then?” James wondered. “Jack, Winn, Francis?”

“Not Francis. Don’t call me Francis.” Winn mentioned quickly.

“He has to be called Winn,” J’onn explained, “The only people who _know_ that Winn is Jack is you three and Winslow Schott Sr.”

“This is the secret Toyman wanted you to tell us?” Kara confirmed.

“Yeah…”

“Well,” Winn turned to Alex, “This explains your drunk New York accent, and what you drunkenly said.”

Winn scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah…”

“Hold up!” Kara raised her hand, “Didn’t you say that Jack Kelly led the strike?”

“Created it and led it,” Winn corrected. “Yes, that was me. I was very rowdy when I was younger.”

“You asked me if I’ve died before,” Alex gained their attention, “Why?”

“Was I drunk?”

“Yes.”

“Makes sense.” Winn nodded. “Okay, um, before… I travelled to 1999… I got… murdered by Warden Snyder. I died, and then I woke up again a minute before the bullet hit. And that’s when I travelled through time.”

“And you remember dying?”

Winn solemnly sighed, “Every night.”

Kara silently got up from the couch and hugged Winn. “I’m sorry,” she softly said.

Winn raised an eyebrow, “For what? You didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly.” She explained. “I didn’t help you. I’m sorry.”

“No one supposed to know, Kara,” Winn explained, “I was happy enough to turn my back on my old life. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone. I would have taken this to the grave.”

“You grew up in New York,” James added, “Does that mean that you have an accent…?”

Kara dropped the hug, “Yeah.” Winn sighed. “I hide it, unless I’m drunk or passionately speaking about something.”

“It’s a very bad Brooklyn accent,” Alex warned James.

“I’m not from Brooklyn!” Winn complained. “Anyway, you wouldn’t know. _You’ve_ never been to New York, none the less, Brooklyn.”

“And you have?” Alex was smiling, edging him on.

“Yeah,” Winn smiled, “I know people from Brooklyn. Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn Strike. You grow up in New York, you go places.”

Winn subtly flicked his rubber band.

Kara grabbed his wrist, “Hey!” he called.

“Don’t do that,” she chastised.

“I kinda have to.” Winn explained.

“You want to sing?” J’onn realised, “Now?”

Winn paled, “Uh… no…”

James rolled his eyes at Winn’s answer.

“What?” Winn demanded. “I’ve lived here for a few years, I know it’s weird to randomly burst out into song. Besides, you won’t hear the music.”

“You hear _music!”_ Kara blinked.

“Yeah,” Winn nodded, “Everyone does. Once someone starts to sing, music plays in everyone’s heads, and… synchronised dancing occurs…” He said the last part softly.

“I didn’t know you can dance!” Kara playfully swatted his arm.

“I practically lived in a musical,” Winn explained, “It would be more surprising if I _didn’t_ dance.”

“What kind of dance do you do?” Alex wondered, “Ballet? Hip hop?”

“Tap.” He explained, “Mostly tap.”

“A tap-dancing musical,” James smiled, “Sounds fun.”

“Well,” Winn shrugged, “Better than ballet.”

“Well,” J’onn spoke up, “It seems like my duty is done. If you don’t mind, I have to head back to the DEO.”

“What?” Kara asked, “No! Stay!”

“I must refuse,” J’onn turned to her, “Enjoy your dinner. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

The four said their goodbyes to J’onn before he shifted to his Martian form and phased out the wall and flew into the sky.

“So, Winn,” Kara started, “How good of a singer are you?”

Winn gasped, a smile wide on his face, “How _dare_ you ask me that. Insulted! I am insulted!”

James laughed, Kara smiled, Alex tried to not drown in her beer.

“Sorry!” Kara squeaked out. “I just never hear you sing.”

“Oh he can sing,” Alex assured, “Even drunk, singing off-key, he can sing.”

“Thank you, Alex,” Winn gestured to her, “Someone understands.”

They laughed.

For the rest of the evening, the four friends sat around Kara’s apartment, eating Chinese food, and drinking beers.

This was the first time that Winn felt genuinely happy, a weight lifted off his shoulders, since living in the 21st century.

**Author's Note:**

> No regrets


End file.
